


Death to the Capitol

by Merit



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Gen, Original Character Death(s), Pre-Series, Twenty Four Hours to Live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-09 23:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merit/pseuds/Merit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alma was going to lose it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death to the Capitol

The verdict was the same. Stefan would be dead within the day and there was nothing Alma could do about it. She sank to the chair next to Stefan’s bed and looked over to her husband. He seemed to bearing the news better than Alma, which infuriated her.

“How can you be so calm?” She snapped, blood boiling. She would probably regret this, arguing away his final moments. He coughed. Alma had been one of the first to get the illness and so far has been one of the few to survive it. Watching her children die hadn’t felt like victory. Now he was just lying there, not raging against the illness that ravaged his body.

He smiled at her. She had always loved his smiles. Now it just made her angrier.

“I have a limited time left,” he said, reaching out and placing his hand on hers. It is too hot and clammy. She knew, she knew from watching her children die, that when he dies he will be cold and dry. “I would prefer to spend it with you, my love.”

Her anger rosed and peaked and Alma sagged in her chair, suddenly weary. “Oh Stefan, you’re going to leave me here with no one.”

“You’re strong, Alma. Stronger than me. If you and the children had died, I would be crying until I probably ended it all,” Stefan admitted. It still felt like a dagger. She _cared_ , she did. But while grief nipped at her ankles, she was so filled with rage that it kept the grief at bay. “Alma,” he said and already his voice is becoming weaker, his grasp on her hand weaker. This illness, this curse, this _gift_ from the Capitol took people so quickly. “There will be more like me than you. That’s why you’ll have to be even stronger, Alma my lovely.”

His words bring the situation at hand to fore. Already nearly half of District 13 has been killed. The doctors, those left, have said that the illness had nearly run its course. A cure, a vaccination was in the process but already so many had been lost. It made Stefan, quiet and ashen on his hospital bed more devastating. She had hoped, desperately, that he would be spared but this very morning he had woke her up with his bloody coughing. They were both still grief stricken over the loss of their children. And perhaps Stefan had more right to grieve, Alma admitted. She had been lost to her fever dreams when they had died. But Stefan had nursed them through their illness, watched them breathe their last. It is a torment Alma doesn’t know she could withstand.

But already there is talk of the survivors of the illness, those who managed to beat the virus. Most are now infertile, Alma included. Before this wretched illness had taken hand she had a beautiful son and daughter. In District 13 there was no waste and two or three children was considered optimum for their continued survival. With the arrival of refugees from the other Districts, few as they may be, District 13 had been growing slowly.

All that will be in ruin, Alma realized. District 13 will probably have less than half of their population left, with those who were of age and fertile becoming a significant minority. “This could mean the end of us,” she said quietly. She of all people knew how people can panic.

“We cannot allow that to happen, to let the Capitol beat us,” Stefan said, gaze intense, his grip on her hand strengthening for a second before he is forced to let go as another attack wrecked and shook his body. After it passed, he was quiet and sombre, and then said, “There will be need of a strong leader, Alma. This is what you have been waiting for.”

She laughed bitterly. “This is not how I imagined it, Stefan,” she said.

“Perhaps not, but this will be the situation,” Stefan said. “Who else is left anyway? Raymond? Elsa? Raymond is nearly dead, even if he has managed to evade the illness. Elsa supports you.”

“That leaves Lewis,” she said. “Out of the Council members, he’s the only real rival for power. If I took control of the Council,” she paused. What she was saying was near treason. When District 13 had retreated underground, forsaking freedom for survival, strict guidelines and laws had to be instituted. Scores had been executed for mutiny and rebellion before the new order had settled. This had been the only life Alma now and she knew even tougher times might be in future if they were ever to rebel against the Capitol once more. If the wrong person heard what she and Stefan were discussing, she could be in trouble sentenced to hard labour or, possibly, even death. But Alma realized, looking around at the near empty hospital ward, who was left?

“Exactly,” Stefan said his eyes fever bright. Rebellion was a shared passion of theirs. Their vision for the future was one of the reasons why they had married. It finally gave them a private space where they could plan a future on the surface. But it wasn’t the only reason. It had been a place for them to love and share with their children. It would all be gone now. Once order was restored she would be required to move. It would never be hers again.

“If I took control of the Council, even with half of us gone, we could finally have someone who wanted the Capitol dead and defeated,” Alma said. Grand plans were already forming in her head, visions of President Snow dead at her hand, the blood running red in the Capitol. 

“I have always believed in you, Alma,” Stefan said, voice fading. “Don’t think that trust was misplaced.”

Alma’s throat grew tight. “I love you,” she said, holding back on tears.

“Kill them all, my love,” Stefan said, eyes closing as he breathed his last. 

Alma didn’t cry. She had to take control of District 13 and make the rebellion in the Districts a reality. There was no time for crying now.

**Author's Note:**

> From the moment it was mentioned the illness that ravaged District 13 seemed like it must have been sent by the Capitol. It seemed to perfectly fit the Capitol's agenda. So I've included that, even if it wasn't known at the time. It seemed to suit Snow's agenda as well, since I personally time it around when he came to power (fudging figures maybe) as a further choke hold on his position.
> 
> Oh and the bit about the Council was a bit of fantasy. Coin always seemed like the authoritarian type who would nod to democratic notions in order to get what she wanted.
> 
> Written for the space '24 hours to live' for trope_bingo.


End file.
